


Bucky's Birthday, 2017

by tinzelda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Tony tries to get Steve drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4219146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinzelda/pseuds/tinzelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I realized I hadn’t yet written the obligatory story with the team living as one big happy family in the tower, so here’s my version of that: when the team discovers that Bucky’s turning 100 (sort of), of course there must be a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bucky's Birthday, 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Jo (jmathieson) for thorough and insightful beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own, of course!

“What’s the matter?” Natasha asked as she settled into the seat next to Steve’s.

“Nothing.” Steve forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Come on,” she said as she slid a fresh cup of coffee over to him. Steve’s almost untouched first cup had grown cold. “I thought we got rid of that lost puppy look a long time ago.”

She was teasing him. Maybe even patronizing him. But Steve knew that there was genuine concern behind it.

“It’s just that Bucky’s on a mission. He won’t be back until late Friday afternoon, and—” Steve broke off, feeling a little silly that he was bothered by something that really wasn’t all that important. “Friday’s his birthday.”

Natasha tilted her head to one side. “I can understand why he might not want to make a big deal of it.” She was still watching Steve with sharp eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “It took me a few years before I was willing to celebrate anything about my life.”

“I know.” Steve bumped her shoulder with his. It wasn’t much comfort, but she probably wouldn’t accept anything more, and she didn’t seem saddened by her admission anyway. “I can understand that.”

The first year after Bucky came back, even Steve forgot about his birthday. At that point they’d still been trying to steal a few hours of sleep without screaming nightmares, and Steve had been desperate with worry over how much weight Bucky’d lost—he couldn’t seem to stomach much of anything without feeling ill. Though the doctors, when Bucky could be convinced to let them examine him, hadn’t been able to find anything specific causing the trouble.

Things had been better lately though. Bucky was so much like his old self, and Steve had hoped they could have a nice quiet day together, at least. But Bucky had accepted the mission knowing full well when he would be home. It wasn’t like they’d made specific plans—they hadn’t even talked about it—so there was no reason why Steve should feel hurt.

Natasha nudged back with her shoulder and gave Steve what was, for her, a very sympathetic look. “You could have dinner together after he gets back. Maybe make his favorite?”

“Maybe.” Steve knew she was trying to be helpful. She couldn’t know that food was one of the things Bucky still struggled with.

“How old is he anyway?” Natasha asked.

Steve made a face. “Thirty-one. Or a hundred. Or somewhere in between, I guess, depending on how you figure it.”

Natasha went still. “One hundred.”

“Yep. He was born in 1917.”

“One hundred?” Natasha said again.

“One hundred what?”

Steve looked up and saw Tony approaching from the elevator.

“One hundred what?” Tony repeated.

“Years,” Natasha explained. “It’s Barnes’s birthday.”

“One hundred years old.” Tony laughed, then looked at Steve. “So when’s the party?”

“There’s no party. Bucky’s on a mission.”

“Well, when’s he getting back?” Tony asked indignantly. “We can’t not celebrate the one hundredth birthday of your unfrozen caveman boyfriend.”

“Tony—” Steve hoped his embarrassment at Tony’s teasing wasn’t too obvious.

“Friday,” Natasha said. She had an impish smile on her face. “His birthday is on Friday, and he gets back that afternoon.”

“Come on, seriously, coming back from a trip on your actual birthday? That’s a man begging for a surprise party.”

“I don’t think—” But Steve barely got the words out before Tony was off and running.

“A little food? A little music? A little booze? Okay, a lot of booze.” Tony grinned at Steve and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of everything. It’ll be great.”

“Wait,” Steve called, but Tony was already pushing the elevator button.

“Trust me,” Tony said. He was typing a message into his phone. “This is one of my many areas of expertise.”

“I’ll help,” Natasha said, putting her hand on Steve’s arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it under control.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.”

Natasha slipped between the elevator doors as they closed, and Steve was left alone at the dining table in the common area, wondering how things had gotten away from him so quickly. He knew that Tony’s heart was in the right place, and Natasha seemed willing to go along with the plan too, but Steve wasn’t at all sure that this was a good idea.

Steve still remembered all the times when someone had dropped by and Bucky had disappeared without a word. Or when Bucky had come in to find Steve and Natasha having coffee and slipped away to his room rather than join them. It had taken a long time for him to be willing to be around Steve’s friends for anything other than missions, and now here they were about to force their company on the poor guy for an entire evening.

Maybe it was better though. If Bucky hadn’t wanted to celebrate his birthday with Steve, maybe having a bunch of other people around—especially loud people intent on having fun—might provide a buffer zone so that Steve could spend a little time with Bucky without feeling like he was monopolizing Bucky’s time.

*****

Steve stared into the bowl, wondering where he’d gone wrong. Pound cake was such a dense kind of dessert, so how was it possible that the batter could be so thin and runny? Maybe he’d used the mixer for too long. Maybe he’d melted all the butter. But he figured he might as well try sticking it in the oven to see what would happen. He could eat it himself if it wasn’t any good and try to make another one for Bucky.

Natasha was getting a real cake for the party anyway. Steve had just wanted to try recreating Mrs. Barnes’s pound cake, hoping it might be something Bucky could enjoy. It was rich, of course—all that butter. But it was simple and not overly sweet, so it probably wouldn’t upset Bucky’s still-temperamental digestive system. Looking at the mess in the bowl, Steve reminded himself that it was the thought that counts.

As he smeared butter into the bottom of the cake pan, he heard the door to his apartment open. There was only one person who would let himself in uninvited: Bucky was home early. He appeared in the kitchen doorway, his hair wet and combed back from his forehead. Steve wanted to bury his face in Bucky’s neck and smell the soap on his skin. When he got back, he must have showered and then come right to Steve’s apartment, and the thought gave Steve a thrill of pleasure.

But Bucky was looking around the room in bemusement. The were piles of stuff all over the place: cake ingredients all over the counter, stacks of paper plates and napkins and snacks on the table, cases of soda on the floor in the corner.

“Surprise,” Steve said lamely.

Bucky gave Steve a small puzzled smile and approached on silent feet.

“The team is throwing you a party,” Steve explained. “I made the mistake of letting Tony hear that you’re turning one hundred this year.”

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky’s smile grew wider. His obvious pleasure at the idea lifted some of Steve’s worry away. He stepped close to Bucky and put an arm around his shoulders. “Apparently everyone wants to celebrate the fact that you’re really old.”

Bucky gave Steve a little nudge but didn’t push him away completely. “You’re almost there too, you know.”

Steve shook his head. “A miss is as good as a mile.”

Bucky grinned again, and Steve’s heart felt even lighter.

“I forgot,” Steve said. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“You want me to skip out? I don’t want to ruin their fun.”

“I don’t know.” Steve really wanted Bucky to stay but always tried to give him choices. “You don’t have to go.”

Bucky was frowning now, and Steve resisted the urge to hug him.

“Maybe I could just hang out here tonight so nobody sees me,” Bucky suggested. “Then get out of here early, before anyone gets here?”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve said. “You don’t even have to leave all that early. Natasha said she’d come to help me set up, but she won’t be here till noon.”

Bucky still looked uncertain. Steve wondered if he’d prefer to leave and was just staying because Steve seemed to want him to. There never used to be awkward moments like this between them.

Pulling himself out from under Steve’s arm, Bucky looked into the mixing bowl. “What the hell is that?”

Steve laughed before picking up the spoon and giving the liquidy batter a stir. “An experiment. It’s supposed to be your mother’s pound cake, but it really doesn’t look right, does it?”

Bucky’s head jerked up in surprise. His face opened up—he looked younger, almost happy.

“Can I have some?”

“Well, yeah, it’s for you. It’s supposed to be your birthday cake. Well, one of them. Natasha’s getting a fancy cake for the party, but I wanted to try this.”

Bucky had a huge smile on his face, and Steve tried not to stare.

“C’mon, it’s almost my birthday. You gonna make me wait until tomorrow on a technicality?”

“I’m going to make you wait until it’s more than soup, at least. Let me get this in the oven.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, poked his finger into the bowl, then stuck it into his mouth to suck the batter off. Steve turned away, pretending to be busy at the stove to hide the flush on his face. Seeing Bucky’s lips like that, tight around his finger, sent Steve’s thoughts into dangerous territory.

When his cheeks had cooled, Steve returned to the counter to pour the batter into the pan. “You’re back early.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it was a breeze. I wish they’d stop thinking I still need training wheels.”

“You want me to talk to somebody?”

Steve regretted the offer the moment he uttered it, but Bucky didn’t seem bothered. Now that he didn’t need help so desperately, it seemed easier for him to accept it.

“No, thanks,” Bucky said. “I’ll pay my dues.”

Steve slid the pan into the oven, careful not to let the batter slop over the edges. “How about some TV? By the time this is done, it’ll actually be your birthday.”

An hour of sitting in the dark with Bucky as the aroma of baking cake filled the apartment was a luxury to be savored. Steve hardly knew what they were watching—he always let Bucky pick the show—but he loved just having Bucky there on the couch with him, genuinely relaxed so that his shoulder leaned into Steve’s, warm and solid.

Bucky’s legs were stretched out with his feet propped on the coffee table. Steve stole a glance over at his profile. So handsome. And peaceful right now, thank goodness. A wave of longing swept through Steve’s belly, and his hands tightened into fists as he fought the urge to touch Bucky’s cheek or wrap his fingers around the back of his neck.

He’d had it under control for so long, but there had been a lot of things getting in the way that had made it a little easier: the war, Peggy, then Bucky being gone. Steve thought he’d closed that chapter. But then Bucky came back.

For a while things had been good as Bucky slowly improved. They’d done just about everything together: early morning runs, making breakfast together, watching movies, even doing laundry—everything. They had more space, of course, but it was a lot like living together before without the illness and the drafty windows and the worry over scraping together the rent money.

But Bucky’s recovery had been full of temptation. He’d needed Steve so much. He was around all the time, even creeping into Steve’s bed at night after being woken up by nightmares. It brought everything back, and Steve wanted Bucky like crazy.

Then Bucky started taking missions, separate from Steve, and Tony gave Bucky his own apartment. Steve had tried to encourage Bucky to branch out on his own. It was what the doctors said was healthiest, but Steve guiltily missed the time when Bucky had been completely dependent on him. When they spent every possible second together.

Steve had tucked away his fantasies and tried to do the right thing. He’d hoped that being apart more often would help his feelings fade into the background again, but somehow, not having Bucky there all the time made Steve want him even more. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

“Steve?”

Steve snapped his eyes back to the television. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve’s pulse raced. Had Bucky caught him staring?

“You’re just . . . quiet.”

“I’m fine.”

Steve dared a look at Bucky, who was looking back at him intently. Steve couldn’t quite catch his breath. He wanted to kiss Bucky so badly. He’d always been enraptured by Bucky’s mouth. The curve of his lower lip. The tilt of his sarcastic grins.

“Steve?”

He realized that he was staring again. He dragged his gaze up, looking Bucky right in the eye.

Bucky was scowling a little. “Steve.”

Steve recognized that tone. It meant Bucky wasn’t going to drop it. He knew something was going on, and he was going to make Steve talk about it whether he wanted to or not. But right at that moment, the timer on the stove began beep shrilly, and Steve jumped up off the sofa. “Cake’s done.”

Bucky followed more slowly, entering the kitchen as Steve pulled the cake out. It looked golden and perfect.

“Huh,” Steve said. “Maybe I can cook after all.”

Bucky reached for the knife block on the counter. “I think we need a taste test to be sure.” 

“Shouldn’t we let it cool down?”

“Come on, I’ve already waited this long.” He was already cutting into the cake, letting out tendrils of steam. He didn’t even get a plate, just lifted the slice onto his metal hand and took a bite, burning his mouth.

“Careful,” Steve said, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it at the tap. “It’s hot.”

Bucky took a big gulp of the cool water. “Yeah, thanks. I kind of figured that out on my own.”

“How is it?” Steve asked.

“I couldn’t really taste it.” He took another bite, blowing on it first, and then smiled. “It’s good.”

“Yeah?” Steve reached for the knife Bucky’d left next to the pan and cut himself a slice.

“Not as good as Ma’s, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But really good.”

“Good.” Steve tried a bite. It wasn’t half bad.

Bucky finished his first piece and cut a second, so Steve figured he could count it as a success. Bucky took a sip from his glass, made a face, and went to the sink to pour out the water. Then he pulled the milk carton out of the fridge and refilled his glass. As he gulped down his milk, his eyes met Steve’s over the rim of his glass.

“What?” Bucky asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.” Steve answered. “It’s just nice having you here. I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me? We see each other practically every day.”

That was true, but it wasn’t the same. Bucky was distant, like he hoped to shed Steve along with everything else about his recovery. Steve didn’t say anything more on the subject, because he never wanted Bucky to feel pressured to spend time with him.

“Besides,” Bucky continued. “You kept telling me I should do things on my own. I figured that was how you wanted it.”

“What?”

Bucky turned away and headed back to the living room.

“Wait,” Steve said, trotting to catch up. “What does that mean?”

Bucky threw himself onto the couch.

“Bucky?” Steve stood right there in front of him but couldn’t see his face the way he had ducked his head down.

When Bucky finally looked up, he shrugged. Steve waited for some kind of explanation, but Bucky just took another huge bite of the cake in his hand and chewed slowly. Maybe he was stalling, but Steve could be patient.

Finally he washed down the mouthful of cake with a gulp of his milk and said, “I thought you didn’t want me hanging around so much.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

There was no answer.

“Bucky.” Steve sat next to Bucky, careful not to crowd him. “Of course I want to see you. I—”

“Then why were you so ready to get rid of me?” Steve was still trying to figure out what Bucky meant when he continued. “Pushing me to get my own place, sending me out on missions without you.”

Steve rubbed both hands over his face, then let them fall into his lap. “I just wanted you to know you had a choice.”

Bucky glared at Steve then. “You don’t need to do that anymore.”

“Do what?”

“Make sure you’re _preserving my agency_.” Bucky said it with a harsh snideness, obviously quoting one of the psychologists he’d worked with. Bucky looked at the cake in his hand and sighed. “All those therapy sessions you made me go to. So much talk about making choices and asking for what I want, for what I need, cause for a long time, I wasn’t able to do that.”

“I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m not bringing it up to make you feel sorry for me. Let me finish.” Bucky took a deep breath. “I get that you wanted to give me a choice, but you can stop now. I’m better.” He made a face. “Mostly better.”

“Okay. I get it. But that wasn’t why I was doing it.”

Bucky didn’t say anything—just kept scowling at Steve, who realized he was going to have to explain. He turned away a little, propping his elbows on his knees and staring down at his hands. Bucky was looking at him so intently—he could easily read Steve’s expressions, even after everything that had happened, and it was unnerving.

“When I first came back, just about everyone was gone. Peggy was here, but she was an old woman. You were—” Steve cut himself off. He still couldn’t bear to think about the time when he’d thought Bucky was dead. “You were gone. I was . . .”

Steve glanced over at Bucky. He was watching Steve, waiting, slouched down against the arm of the couch. At least the frown had disappeared.

“I was pretty miserable,” Steve admitted. “So when I got you back, I was afraid . . . well, I didn’t want to just take over your life, you know? I’d missed you so damn much, but things were different, and I didn’t want to assume . . .” Steve waved one hand in a lame gesture, unable to find the words he wanted.

After watching his hand flapping back and forth between them for a few seconds, Bucky frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Sheesh, I don’t know, Buck.” Steve set his hand purposefully on his knee so he’d stop flailing it around like an idiot. “I didn’t want you to keep living here, keep working with me, keep spending all our free time together, just because it was how things used to be. I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me again.”

“Whoa, whoa, when did I ever feel sorry for you?” Bucky was sitting bolt upright now and pushing his face close to Steve’s. “I hadn’t known you for more than two minutes before I knew you didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for you.”

Steve didn’t believe it for a second. “Come on, you always took care of me. I was always sick, and you’ve always been better at making friends than me. I wanted you to be able to make a new life for yourself. I didn’t want you to think you had to babysit me.”

“Me? Babysit you?” Bucky’s voice was quiet now. He got quiet like that when he was really angry. “I was the one who needed babysitting. And it was obvious you were tired of it, and you told me to go and get my own place.”

“I never wanted you to move out!” Steve flinched, realizing that he’d almost shouted.

“But you told me to. You—”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Bucky waited, but Steve didn’t know what else to say.

“You really didn’t want me to go?” Bucky said slowly.

“No, I really didn’t.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?”

“I told you, I thought it was what you wanted.”

“Jesus, Rogers, you really are dense sometimes. You know that?”

Steve nodded, ducking his head so that he didn’t have to look Bucky in the eye anymore, and was surprised when Bucky lean closed and bumped their shoulders together.

“So can I move back in?”

Sure that Bucky was just teasing, Steve looked up, but damned if there wasn’t hopeful uncertainty written all over Bucky’s face. All Steve’s anger—not even anger, really, just frustration and petty hurt feelings—melted away. “Yes, Buck, of course.”

Bucky didn’t smile, but his mouth lost the pinched look it had taken on while they’d argued. “Okay,” he said, and he gave Steve’s fingers a squeeze. Steve hadn’t even realized that he’d grabbed Bucky’s hand at some point. He squeezed back but then immediately let go. No sense giving in to temptation.

“So I’ll move back in,” Bucky said, as if he didn’t still believe it.

“Most of your stuff is still in your room.”

Bucky smiled then, and Steve couldn’t help but smile back.

“I just realized something,” Bucky said.

“What’s that?”

“I think maybe you need therapy more than I do.”

“Ha,” Steve said, deadpan. “Yeah, I tried for a while. The people at SHIELD kind of made me. Didn’t really help.”

Bucky’s let out a snort. “That’s hardly a surprise. You’re not very good at talking about this stuff and even worse at _preserving your agency_. You never ask for what you want.”

Steve avoided looking at Bucky. How could he ask for what he really wanted?

“You ever think about that?” Bucky said, giving Steve another nudge with his shoulder. “You’ll fight for other people and for your big principles, but you don’t fight for yourself. You never even ask for anything. For you, I mean, just for yourself.” Bucky turned his head, and Steve could feel him staring. “What do you even want, Steve?”

“Now you sound like Sam.” Steve was trying to tease, but he knew he was hedging.

Bucky shrugged. “I’m just saying—”

“Okay, I know.”

“Okay,” Bucky said. Then, after a pause, “Want to watch another episode?”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to get another piece of cake first. You want one?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

*****

Bucky snapped on the light in his bathroom, and Steve paused in the hall, watching him get his toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet.

“You got everything you need?” Steve said.

Bucky nodded, but something was wrong—Steve could tell from the way Bucky was looking down at his hands.

“You okay?”

Bucky nodded again, and this time he lifted his head. “Just . . . thanks.”

“For what?”

Bucky looked annoyed for a moment, but he answered. “For letting me move back in.”

“I told you,” Steve said. “I never wanted you to move out in the first place.”

Bucky didn’t answer. Would they ever stop having these awkward moments?

Steve started to say good night, but Bucky interrupted. “I sleep better when you’re close.” He blurted it out like a confession, but Steve was thrilled to hear it. It was probably selfish of him, but he couldn’t help it—it was good to know that Bucky still needed him, at least a little bit.

“Good,” Steve said.

Bucky looked at him.

“I mean. . . .” Steve shrugged. “I’m sorry, but it’s okay. I’ll stay close then.”

It felt awkward again, so Steve mumbled a good night and left Bucky staring down at his toothbrush.

Steve tossed his clothes into the hamper. As he pulled on a pair of sweats and an old T-shirt, he started wondering what exactly Bucky meant by what he’d said. Did he sleep better with Steve nearby because he felt safer? Safe from what? He couldn’t still be afraid of someone coming after him, could he? Steve knew Bucky would probably never completely lose the fear that something might trigger his conditioning. Was it just that he trusted Steve to stop him if it came to that?

Steve shook off the brooding thoughts. It didn’t matter why Bucky wanted to move back in. If he was more comfortable, Steve was all for it. The fact that it coincided with Steve’s secret wishes shouldn’t be important.

Steve was brushing his teeth when he caught a glimpse of Bucky in the mirror. Steve grinned around his toothbrush at Bucky’s reflection, but Bucky hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

“There’s no toothpaste in the other bathroom.”

He brushed past Steve to grab the toothpaste out of the medicine cabinet, put some on his toothbrush, stuck the toothbrush in his mouth, and shoved by Steve again to replace the tube on the shelf. After he closed the cabinet door, Steve gave him a little shove back so that he could get close enough to the sink to spit. Then Bucky elbowed him out of the way so he could stand in front of the mirror. Not willing to back down, Steve came back immediately with a hip check. Bucky didn’t hesitate before pushing back, forcing Steve to take a stumbling step away. It was stupid—the kind of horsing around they teased each other with nonstop as kids—but it was wonderful.

Bucky was leaning over the sink, rinsing off his toothbrush, and Steve poked one finger hard into Bucky’s side, just under his ribs where he knew there was a ticklish spot. Bucky let out a yelp and jumped, then spun around to scowl at Steve when he laughed, though it was obvious he was enjoying this too.

Steve pushed out his chest and clenched his fists, like he was looking for a fight. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?” He plastered on a menacing expression and took a big step forward, forcing Bucky back against the sink.

Bucky tilted his face up, not intimidated one bit, but they were too close. Not touching, but Steve could smell the soap from Bucky’s shower, almost feel the warmth from his body through his clothes. The playful mood melted away, and Steve found himself frozen, swallowing down the urge to wrap his arms around Bucky and kiss him.

“Steve?”

Bucky’s eyes searched Steve’s face, and Steve took a big step back and forced himself to smile. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

*****

When Steve got up in the morning, Bucky was already gone. It would have been nice to have breakfast together, but Steve had a lot to do. He took a long run and a quick shower, then started getting ready for Bucky’s party.

The day before, he had gone online and found silly decorations: they were Avengers-themed, with balloons, banners, an accordion-pleated table centerpiece, and cardboard circles to hang from the ceiling with string that had pictures of the team. He knew they were for children’s parties, but there had never been extra money for things like balloons and streamers for their birthdays when he and Bucky were kids. In bad years there hadn’t even been sugar for a cake, so Steve figured now that he could afford silly indulgences there was no reason to be stingy, and he knew that Bucky would find them funny.

Steve was tidying up the apartment when the package arrived, nice and early. He still felt paying for overnight shipping was a extravagant waste of money, but they wouldn’t have gotten there in time otherwise. When he opened the box, he was stupidly disappointed and a little embarrassed, because while he, Tony, and Thor were well represented, and there were plenty of images of the Hulk, Natasha and Clint only showed up a few times, mostly in the background. So many people were left out. Most importantly Bucky.

So Steve sat down at the table with some heavy paper stock and started sketching. He might have gotten a little carried away with the drawing of Bucky, but once he was finally satisfied with it and hung it up with the others, he added pictures of Fury, Hill, and Pepper. Steve figured she was as much a part of this as any of them. He kept going, drawing Bruce (the other guy shouldn’t get all the attention), Sam, and anyone else he could think of.

When Natasha knocked lightly and poked her head around Steve’s open door, he had dozens of extra drawings to hang. She eyed the decorations with a small smile when she came in but didn’t comment.

Steve moved furniture around at her direction. She was as efficient with maximizing seating as she was in planning a mission. They didn’t remember to take a break for lunch until it was almost three o’clock in the afternoon.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” Steve said through a bite of his sandwich.

“It’ll be fine,” Natasha said. “You know, I actually think he might like it.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I hope you’re right. It would be kind of awkward if he spent the entire evening hiding in his room.” Steve gestured down the hall.

“His room?”

Steve couldn’t keep a grin off his face. “Yeah, Bucky’s moving back in.”

Natasha cocked her head. “When did this happen?”

“Uh . . .” Oops. Steve wasn’t supposed to let anyone know that Bucky’d come back early and spoiled the surprise. “Just a few days ago.”

“Huh. You didn’t mention it.”

Natasha was studying Steve. He took another big bite and tried not to squirm.

A loud knock on the door interrupted them. It was Tony, followed by three guys with handtrucks loaded with box after box of bottles.

“The bar has arrived,” Tony said with a grin. He turned to the workmen and waved one hand to the sideboard in the dining room. “Maybe set up in there? The bartender can stand in the corner.” Suddenly Tony froze, staring up at the decorations hanging all over. “Hot damn. Rogers has finally gained a postmodern sense of irony.”

“Bartender?” Steve said. “How many people do you think are coming to this thing?”

Tony ignored the question. “It is ironic, right? Please tell me it’s ironic.”

“Tony—”

Tony pulled off his sunglasses and looked at Steve. “Everyone’s coming.”

“Everyone? Who’s everyone?”

“Besides,” Tony continued, “we’ve got a pool going for how many drinks it’ll actually take you get you drunk.”

“Tony—”

Pepper followed carrying a box under one arm and a tablet in the other hand. She gave Natasha a big smile and tilted her cheek up for Steve to kiss. “Hi, Steve.”

“It’s for science, you know,” Tony said.

“Hi, Pepper.” Steve took the box from her and set it on the counter. “Don’t tell me Tony volunteered you to plan this thing.”

“Hey, I planned it just fine all by myself,” Tony said.

“He did,” Pepper admitted. “I just did a little _un_ -planning.” She opened the plain cardboard box she’d been carrying. Inside was a beautifully wrapped gift.

“Damn,” Steve said. “I completely forgot about a present.”

“The party is your present,” Tony said, then turned to shoot a pointed look in Pepper’s direction. “And I still say a DJ is not over the top.”

Pepper gave Tony an indulgent smile. “I’m sure Jarvis can handle the music just fine.”

Natasha nudged Steve’s shoulder. “What excuse are you using to get him down here?”

Steve’s answer was distracted. How could he have forgotten to get Bucky a present? “He always comes down after a mission. He’ll probably get here about seven?”

“Perfect,” Tony said. “We told everyone to get here by six, which really means six thirty. The bartender will be here at five to set up, just in case anyone actually shows up on time.”

“Five?” Steve glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already almost four. “And you still didn’t say how many people you invited.”

Tony was already on his way out the door, but Pepper laid a hand on Steve’s arm. “He means well. And to give him credit, he did actually plan most of this himself.”

Natasha chimed in. “Usually he just pays someone to do it, so consider it a labor of love.”

Pepper’s hand squeezed Steve’s arm gently. “Don’t worry. Natasha and I kept things under control.”

“Thank you,” Steve said.

She slipped out the door after Tony.

*****

“I beg your pardon, sir, but Agent Barnes has just entered the elevator on his floor. He will be here shortly.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Tony said. He clapped his hands and raised his voice to be heard over the noise of the crowd. “Okay, people, it’s go time.”

Everyone quieted, and most of the lights in the living room got switched off—Tony had arranged for Jarvis to turn them back on all at once for the big moment. Steve hovered near the door. He knew it was silly to be nervous. Bucky already knew about the party, and he’d seemed pleased.

There was a loud knock, and Steve rolled his eyes. It all seemed so staged and stilted. No one else knew that Bucky always just slipped in without knocking, though, and he probably wanted to give them some warning.

He eyed Steve suspiciously when he came in, but he was a good actor. As he passed by Steve, his expression turned neutral, and Steve doubted anyone else would be able to guess this was not going to be a surprise.

“Happy birthday, Buck.”

Bucky started to smile, then the lights flashed on and everyone yelled. Bucky flinched, but he recovered quickly, grabbed Steve, and tried to push him through the front door, as if moving him away from a threat. Then Bucky shook his head and turned to give Steve a hug. Behind Steve, there was laughter and some applause from the crowd, and others approached to greet the guest of honor.

Steve savored the hug. Though it wasn’t the tender moment he really wanted, of course, more a back-thumping, best-buddies kind of thing, he always appreciated a chance to get close. “Nice touch,” he whispered.

Bucky turned his head so that his lips brushed Steve’s ear. “You kidding? I was really surprised. Wasn’t expecting that many people.”

Steve grinned. He liked that Bucky’s impulse when taken off guard had been to protect him. He liked that Bucky’s arms were still wrapped around him. He liked Bucky talking into his ear, liked feeling his breath on his neck. He liked all of it, which was exactly why it was time to back off and give Natasha a chance to give Bucky a hug.

There was quite a mob. The whole team was there, of course, with their various hangers-on and significant others. It seemed like just about everyone that Steve had met in the last couple of years had shown up at his door until he’d wondered how they’d all fit in the apartment, including some faces he barely recognized and was pretty sure Bucky didn’t know at all. But everyone looked happy, and, more importantly, so did Bucky.

Most of the guests approached to talk to him, and he handled it like people had never made him skittish. He shook hands and let almost-strangers manhandle him into hugs, all with a charming smile on his face. He hadn’t exactly dressed up—that would have made it obvious that he’d known about the party—but he had on jeans instead of sweats and a button-down instead of one of Steve’s worn-out T-shirts. He looked fantastic, with the jeans hugging his hips and the shirt fitted to his shoulders. Steve had to remind himself not to stare.

Steve felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Tony holding two beer bottles. “Hey, Cap. I know you’re big on doing your civic duty, so let’s get started.”

Steve raised one eyebrow instead of answering, and Tony grinned.

“Come on, do you have any idea how many people you’ll disappoint if you’re not a good sport about this?”

Steve shook his head, but he accepted one of the bottles and took a big swig. “It won’t work,” he said pleasantly. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”

Tony gave an exaggerated shrug, then dashed away when he caught sight of Pepper across the room. Natasha appeared in his place at Steve’s side.

“I was right,” she said.

Steve smiled at her. “You usually are.”

“I mean about Barnes. He seems to be enjoying himself.”

Steve looked over to where Bucky was being engulfed in an enthusiastic bear hug from Thor while Dr. Foster looked on. When Thor released him, Bucky caught Steve’s eye and grinned.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I think he is.”

“Did you have time to get him a present?”

“I barely had time to take a shower.” Steve took another long drink from his beer.

“Don’t worry about it.”

A waiter passed by with a tray of hors d’oeuvres, and Natasha grabbed a couple without him seeming to even notice.

“Waiters?” Steve said. “When did Tony bring in waiters?”

Natasha shrugged, popped a mini crab cake in her mouth, and handed one to Steve. It was good. Tony knew how to throw a party—Steve had to give him that. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Steve realized that he no longer felt anxious. He glanced over to where he’d last seen Bucky, but his view was blocked by Thor approaching. 

“My friends!” Thor held his arms out as if to embrace everyone in the room. “I have brought mead from Asgard for the celebration.”

Clint appeared from behind Thor with a stack of cups and a glass pitcher. “You gotta try this stuff,” he said, handing glasses to Natasha and Steve. “It really packs a punch.”

Steve set his empty beer bottle on the tray of another passing waiter. “You know I can’t get drunk.”

Clint laughed. “Don’t be so sure. This stuff is lethal.” He drank deeply from his own large glass.

Steve took a sip, expecting it to taste unpleasantly strong, but it was wonderful: a little sweet, a little dry. It went down easy, and Clint and Thor kept refilling Steve’s glass. Before Steve knew it, he was feeling a little tipsy. He looked down at his cup, blinking in surprise. “What the hell is this stuff, anyway?”

“Mead.” Clint said, topping up Steve’s drink yet again. “I think it has honey in it.”

Steve wasn’t listening anymore, because he’d caught Bucky’s eye.

Over in the corner, Bucky was chatting quietly with Bruce. He was nodding at whatever Bruce was saying and had a small plate in one hand with a few of the little crab cakes on it, and several tails from shrimp he’d already eaten. Steve was pleased that he was able to enjoy the party food. For a long time Bucky wouldn’t eat in front of anyone, not even Steve, for fear it would make him sick.

Then Bucky smiled, and it was like Steve was being drawn in by a powerful magnet. He made a beeline for Bucky, but Natasha zipped past him, grabbing the bottle from Clint along the way, and got to Bucky before Steve’s ever-so-slightly clumsy steps got him across the room. Bruce stopped talking when he noticed Natasha and gave her a small smile. She leaned close and whispered something in Bucky’s ear.

Approaching from Bucky’s other side, Steve wrapped one arm around his shoulders, and his other hand came to rest on Bucky’s stomach. Wow, that was nice. Warm and firm under Steve’s palm. It was like Steve could feel the movement of each individual muscle as Bucky reached out to put his plate down on the table next to him.

“Hey, pal,” Bucky said. “Having fun?”

Steve’s thumb found Bucky’s belly button, and his fingers were resting over Bucky’s belt buckle. Steve slid his hand higher until he could feel the contours of Bucky’s ribs.

 _I should learn to sculpt_ , Steve thought. _Touching this is completely different from drawing it, from seeing it._

“Are you drunk?” Bucky said. There was laughter in his voice.

“No,” Steve said. “Noooooo, I can’t get drunk. Remember?”

“Then why are you—?” Bucky put his hand over Steve’s, which made Steve realize that he’d been rubbing Bucky’s belly and sides for the past several moments, completely absorbed.

“Oh,” Steve said. “Oh. Wow. I was—” He tore his eyes away from Bucky’s stomach, and as he raised his head to look at Bucky’s face, he lost his balance, just a little. Bucky’s left arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him, and Steve found himself staring at Bucky’s mouth. Bucky’s beautiful, kissable mouth.

“Steve.” Bucky must have said Steve’s name a million times before, but this time, it sounded totally different. Surprised and breathy and hopeful. It made Steve feel warm all over. He looked into Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky was looking right back at him, not quite smiling, but looking happy—really happy. “Steve,” Bucky said again, and his arm tightened around Steve’s waist.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute—Romanov, what the hell?” Tony was behind Steve. He was almost yelling. “You let him have the mead? This is going to throw the pool all to hell! We have no idea what the alcohol content is in that stuff.”

Steve turned to look at Tony. His heading was spinning, and he wasn’t entirely sure it was the mead.

The delight Tony felt from seeing Steve, drunk and smiling, obviously made up for any disappointment he felt about the betting pool, because he took one look at Steve’s face before his frown broke and turned into a wide grin. “Hey, Captain Hammered, nice to see you enjoying yourself.”

Steve just smiled at him. Bucky’s arm was still around his waist, and Steve felt happy. Even if Tony had interrupted that dizzying moment of staring into Bucky’s eyes. When Tony focused his attention on scolding Clint and Natasha for letting Steve have mead, Steve ducked his head to talk right into Bucky’s ear. The music was so loud that was the only way to make sure he heard. Yeah, that was why Steve leaned so close.

“You having fun?”

Bucky nodded, and his arm tightened around Steve.

“You—” _You smell good_ , Steve had been about to say, but he stopped himself in time—he wasn’t _that_ drunk.

“What?” Bucky pressed closer to Steve, trying to hear, turning to face him, and Steve found his hands settling on Bucky’s hips like they had minds of their own and snatched them back.

“The birthday boy hasn’t even had any,” Natasha said.

Bucky’s arm fell away from Steve’s waist. He took the glass Natasha offered and took a sip. “Nice. What is it?”

“The nectar of the gods. Literally,” Natasha said. “Thor brought it.”

Bucky handed Steve back his cup and eyeballed him suspiciously. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just glad you’re having a good birthday.” Steve was finding it a lot easier to think without Bucky’s hands on him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss the feeling. “But—oh, damn.”

“What is it?”

“I just realized that I never got you a present.”

“You threw this party, didn’t you?”

“Tony did most of the work. And Pepper and Natasha. So many people helped. I barely did anything, actually. Everyone wanted to be here for you.”

Bucky expression turned a little sad. “Wanted to be here for _you_ , more like.”

Steve shook his head. “I didn’t invite these people. Tony did.”

“They came for him then.”

“I don’t think so, Buck. Nobody likes Tony all that much.”

Bucky smiled. “He’s a good guy though.”

“Yeah, he is.” 

Bucky’s tongue poked out for a split second, moistening his lower lip, and Steve thought about what it would be like to let his own tongue follow the same path.

“People like the drawings you did.”

Steve was still transfixed by Bucky’s mouth. “Hmm?”

“Your drawings. They’re a hit.”

Steve followed Bucky’s gesture and saw Natasha and Hill standing together, looking at the hand-drawn decorations and talking. While Steve and Bucky watched, Natasha reached out and pulled the circle with Hill’s face from its string and handed it to her. Hill took it but looked around until she found Steve in the crowd. She held up the drawing, and Steve smiled and waved as permission for her to take it. She waved back, leaned close to whisper something to Natasha, and suddenly more people were taking their own portraits.

Tony grabbed his (the store-bought decorations only had his Iron Man mask), then pulled down the one of Bucky and brought it to him. “You know some of these are going to end up on e-bay, right?”

“I don’t care,” Steve said. “I’m glad people like them. Hey, wait, is everyone leaving?” He wasn’t usually one for parties, but he’d been having fun.

“It’s after midnight,” Bucky said. “And tomorrow’s a work day.”

Within fifteen minutes, most of the guests were gone, leaving just the team. After a few more hugs and birthday wishes, they were gone too, and Steve and Bucky stood in the mess, staring at each other.

“Thanks for the party.” Bucky’s tone was strangely formal.

“You’re welcome, Buck. I’m really glad you liked it.” Steve reached up and pulled down a couple of the strings that were still stuck to the ceiling, just to have something to do. “I was hoping to do something for your birthday, but I admit, it probably wouldn’t have been anything like this. But I told Natasha it was your hundredth, then Tony got involved—”

“See? You don’t say what you really want.”

“All right, already.”

Steve knew he sounded annoyed, and it could have turned into an argument, but Bucky smiled. “Guess I’d better get going.”

“Hey, you live here now, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got training early, right? And I don’t have all my stuff yet.”

The light buzz of intoxication that Steve had felt was already fading, but Bucky didn’t know that. It was enough of an excuse for Steve. He went over to Bucky and pulled him into a hug, whispering, “Don’t go.”

Bucky tried to pull away, but Steve held on. This was probably a mistake. Just holding Bucky like this was making Steve excited.

“It’s better when you’re here.” He pushed his face into Bucky’s neck and felt Bucky’s stubble on his cheek. “So much better.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really drunk, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t. Not very. Not anymore. But Bucky wasn’t drunk at all, and the realization made Steve freeze, a little panicked.

“I mean, you’re only doing this because you’re drunk, right?”

“No. No, I—”

“I’m asking cause I need to know. Are you doing this because you’re drunk? Or because you think it’s what I want? Or are you doing it because it’s what _you_ want?”

Bucky wasn’t going to let this go, was he? He really meant it about Steve saying what he wanted, and he was right. It was easier to fight for what’s right on a grand scale. It was a lot harder to be selfish, especially when you weren’t sure you were allowed to have what you were asking for.

Steve squeezed Bucky tight and took a deep breath. “No, Bucky. No, it’s not just because I’m drunk. And I hope to God it’s what you want too, but I’m doing this because I want to. So much. I’ve wanted you since 1934,” Steve said. “Probably before. But that’s the first time I thought of kissing you.”

“You want to kiss me?”

Steve nodded. “Remember when you took Mary Margaret Nolan to that dance at school and dragged me along? I saw you kiss her and was so damn jealous.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, breathless. “If you don’t kiss me, I think I’m gonna die.”

Steve lowered his head. He watched Bucky tilt up his chin and close his eyes, and it was just like in the movies—a perfect kiss: Bucky’s soft lips against his, Bucky’s left arm twined around his waist, and his other hand in Steve’s hair—until Bucky’s hand slid down and gave Steve’s ass a hard squeeze, making him let out an undignified yelp.

Bucky grinned up at him. “Sorry.”

“I’m not,” Steve said, though he could feel a flush creeping up his neck and over his face.

Bucky’s smile turned wolfish. “No? That’s good. Cause I have a feeling I’m going to be doing that a lot.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said as he pulled Steve in for another kiss. His hand grabbed Steve’s ass again, pulling him close. He pulled away and looked up at Steve. “I kind of have a thing for your ass.”

“Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“No, come on, it’s just the truth.” Bucky kissed Steve’s neck. “I’ve always had a thing for your ass.”

“Always?”

Bucky nodded. He didn’t answer right away because he was busy sucking at the tender skin just under Steve’s ear. “Always. Even when you were a little guy. You used to turn your back when you were changing. I figured you were shy, but you were showing me your best asset.”

Steve groaned. “God, Buck, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

Bucky pulled away then, one hand firmly on each of Steve’s shoulders. “Let’s not do that, okay?”

“Bucky—”

“No, I mean it. C’mere.” Bucky shoved Steve down on the couch and climbed right on top of him, straddling his lap. He leaned on the back of the couch with both hands, propped up over Steve. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. The past, and what we regret. It got us here, right? That’s enough.”

“Okay,” Steve said. He pulled Bucky down until his ass rested on Steve’s thighs. Bucky smiled, then ducked his head for a kiss. His tongue swept over Steve’s bottom lip. He moaned when Steve grabbed his head and pushed his tongue deep into his mouth.

Bucky’s obvious pleasure made Steve a little braver. He let his hands wander down Bucky’s neck and shoulders, skimmed over his chest, then grabbed at his shirt, pulling it out of his jeans so that he could get his hands up under it and feel Bucky’s belly. It had been distracting—entrancing—earlier through Bucky’s shirt, but it was even better touching skin. Steve realized he could never capture this, even with a sculpture. Bucky was warm and alive, not just cold hard stone, and Steve wanted more.

Buttons. He had to get at the buttons on Bucky’s shirt. But Bucky kissed him again then, and he forgot all about the buttons.

Bucky shoved Steve’s shirt collar aside and sucked hard on his collarbone, then mouthed at the soft skin behind his ear before coming back to claim his mouth again. Steve had thought that Peggy had taught him a lot about kissing. His few meaningless romantic encounters both before and after that adrenaline-fueled farewell kiss had paled in comparison. But Steve found it hard to remember that fleeting embrace now, overwhelmed by Bucky’s kisses. He took it slow, finding every secret place that made Steve squirm and giving it his undivided attention.

Bucky shifted his weight, and the movement pushed his thigh against Steve’s cock. Steve thrust up into the pressure. Even through two layers of denim, it felt amazing. He clutched at Bucky’s hips, pulling him closer. He groaned when he felt Bucky’s hardness against his own.

Bucky lifted his head for a kiss, then slowly ground his hips down into Steve’s. “You like that?” he whispered.

“God, yes.”

Steve pulled Bucky down for another kiss.

When Bucky spoke again, he was a little short of breath. “You done this before?”

When Steve didn’t answer, Bucky stilled the motion of his hips.

“Bucky . . . Come on, don’t stop.”

“Tell me.”

“Well . . . sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I’ve done this—kissing. And, you know, touching.” Steve slid his hand back up Bucky’s shirt and skimmed over his stomach. He would never get enough of the feel of Bucky’s skin under his fingers. “But. . . .”

“But you haven’t done much else?”

Steve shook his head. “I want to though.”

“Good.”

Bucky bent lower, his eyes fixed on Steve’s gaping collar.

“Wait,” Steve said. “Have you done this before?”

Bucky stopped and bowed his head. His hair fell over his eyes. “Steve—”

“No, I’m not jealous.”

Bucky tilted his head up just enough to give Steve a pointed look from under his eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe a little. But I just thought it might be useful if one of us knew what he’s doing.”

Bucky nuzzled his face into the crook of Steve’s neck. “Hey, I know what I’m doing.” As if to prove his point, he closed his teeth on Steve’s earlobe and shifted his hips so that his cock rubbed hard against Steve’s.

Steve let out a moan, then laughed, if a little breathlessly. “I wasn’t doubting you,” Steve said. “Just wondering.”

“Wondering?”

“If you’d ever been with a man.”

Bucky pulled away again to look into Steve’s eyes. He seemed to consider his answer for a long time. “No,” he said finally, still watching Steve for a reaction. “But I think I can figure it out.” He leaned close for a kiss. “I’m kinda familiar with the equipment. Can we stop talking now?”

“Good,” Steve said. He put one hand back up under Bucky’s shirt to feel the warm, smooth skin over his ribs. “That’s good.”

“I thought you wanted one of to know what he’s doing?”

“This is better though.”

Bucky lifted his head. “Better how?”

“Better that it’s kind of your first time too.”

“Oh my God, you’re a sap. Now shut up.”

“Bucky.”

“Shut up _please_?”

Steve obeyed willingly, and after a few more kisses, Bucky reached for the buttons on Steve’s shirt. He looked Steve right in the eye as he did it. “This okay?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk anymore.”

Bucky gave Steve a crooked grin. “Yeah, but look who I’m working with here. I’m afraid you won’t speak up if you don’t like something.”

“I like it,” Steve said. “I promise.”

He tried to pull Bucky down into a kiss, but he resisted.

“You ended up with an apartment full of people tonight because you didn’t speak up. So talk to me.” He let Steve pull him down, but only for a brief kiss. Then he whispered in Steve’s ear: “Tell me what you want.”

Steve grabbed Bucky’s head with both hands and kissed him deeply. “I’m not exactly being subtle, Buck.”

There was a sly look on Bucky’s face now. He was teasing Steve, and he wasn’t being mean about it, but neither was he going to let it go.

“You gotta tell me what you want,” he said. “I’m sick of trying to read your mind, and we’ve seen what happens when you try to read mine. So tell me.”

Steve hesitated. He’d never been good at talking about stuff like this, and what if Bucky didn’t want to do what he asked?

Bucky ground his hips down in little circles, and Steve pushed up into the friction. “God, Buck, that’s good.”

Steve tried for a kiss, but Bucky lifted his head. “C’mon, Stevie.”

A bark of nervous laughter burst out of Steve’s throat before he could stop it.

Bucky leaned close and pressed a kiss to Steve’s chest. “Need me to show you how it’s done?”

When Steve answered, his voice came out a little too high-pitched. “What do you mean?”

“I could tell you what I used to think about,” Bucky said. He was rolling his hips against Steve’s again, making it impossible to think straight. “Back when you were smaller.”

“You really wanted me then?” Bucky’d already told him as much, but Steve wanted to hear it again.

Bucky nodded. “I liked how small you were. I wanted to lift you up and fuck you against the wall.”

The words stole the breath from Steve’s lungs. When he got it back, he let out a sound that was embarrassingly close to a whimper

“You like that?” Bucky’s lips were warm against Steve’s ear. “You like when I talk like that?”

Steve nodded. He grabbed Bucky’s hips with both hands and pushed up against him.

Bucky laughed—a low sexy chuckle. “Course, now—” He broke off to give Steve a searing kiss. “ _Now_ , you’re awful big. But with this—” He lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers for a second. “I could probably still do it. Would you like that?”

Steve couldn’t answer.

“You want me to pick you up so all you can do is hold onto me and feel me fucking into you?” 

“Oh, God,” Steve groaned.

“What do you want to do?” Bucky leaned close and whispered in his ear. His hand twined into Steve’s hair. “Tell me.” 

“I want to suck your dick,” Steve blurted out.

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s fingers tightened in Steve’s hair, pulling a little, and Steve let out a moan.

“C’mon, Stevie, tell me more.”

“I used to think about that all the time when I—” Steve broke off, embarrassed.

“Yeah?”

“When I was jerking off.”

“Jesus, Steve.”

“I would think about what it would be like to . . . to suck you, while I was touching myself, and—”

Bucky pulled Steve’s head close to kiss him, plunging his tongue between lips, and Steve tugged at Bucky’s shirt. Two of the buttons popped off, and Steve heard the fabric tearing and winced. “Sorry.”

“Forget it,” Bucky gasped out. “Jesus, I don’t care.”

“I can’t—”

Bucky yanked the shirt off the rest of the way, then pressed close. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and kissed him. Bucky’s bare chest against his felt maddeningly good.

Steve tried to get his hands between their bodies to open Bucky’s pants, but he was clumsy. He couldn’t work the buttons, and Bucky started laughing, Steve thought maybe he should be hurt—it wasn’t exactly a time when you wanted to be laughed at. But he was happy hearing Bucky laughing like that. A real laugh, open and joyful. He used to laugh all the time.

Finally Bucky slid off Steve’s lap onto the floor, pulling Steve down with him and fumbling at his fly. Steve fell half on top of him, and Bucky stopped laughing and let out a groan when Steve’s elbow landed on his stomach. He recovered quickly, sitting up to grab Steve for a kiss. Steve reached for the buttons on his own pants while Bucky kicked off his jeans, sprawled out naked on the carpeting, and gazed up with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Look at you,” he said quietly. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Steve actually felt a little silly with his cock poking out of his half-open fly, kneeling next to Bucky after the clumsy descent from the couch, not sure where to start. Bucky beckoned with one hand, and Steve leaned close for a kiss. With Bucky’s mouth under his, Bucky’s hands skimming over his shoulders and down over his ribs, the awkwardness was forgotten.

Steve couldn’t wait anymore. He threw himself down between Bucky’s legs and closed his lips around his cock. Bucky let out a hiss when Steve’s teeth scraped over his skin. But Steve lined himself up better and used his tongue more, sucking hard. 

“Steve. God, Steve.”

He loved it. The taste of Bucky in the back of his throat. The roughness of his voice when he said Steve’s name.

He pulled back a little, teasing the head with his tongue, and Bucky groaned. Steve could tell he was trying not to thrust up and choke him, so he clamped his hands tight on Bucky’s thighs to keep him still. Steve moved his head up and down, keeping his lips tight.

“Oh, God, yeah, that’s good. Like that.”

Bucky’s hand found the stop of Steve’s head. “God, Steve.” His fingers twined through Steve’s hair. “Wait. Jesus, I’m—”

Steve took Bucky’s cock as deep into his mouth as he could, and Bucky cried out as he started to come. It was hot and bitter, making Steve pull back a little, but he swallowed it down and sucked harder. Bucky moaned again. His fingers fisted tightly in Steve’s hair as his cock jerked and filled Steve’s mouth again. After a third flood, the taut muscles of Bucky’s stomach and thighs seemed to melt. His hand fell away from Steve’s hair, and he lay flat on his back, loose-limbed and gasping.

Steve crawled up to look into his face. Bucky’s eyes slitted open, and a slow smile spread across his face. He reached up to wrap his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, then his eyes fell closed again.

“Bucky?”

“C’mere.” He pulled Steve down for a kiss, sweet and lingering.

Steve lay on the carpet on his side, pressed right up against Bucky’s sweat-damp skin.

“God, Steve, that was good.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky kissed him again instead of answering, then rolled onto his side so that they were face to face. He was still wearing that lazy smile. His hand skimmed over Steve’s ribs, making him shiver.

“That was so good,” Bucky said. His fingers traced a ticklish trail across Steve’s stomach. “I’m going to make you feel that good.”

He kissed Steve again, his tongue darting out to tease at his lips before he moved away to kiss a line along Steve’s jaw. His hand snaked inside Steve’s open jeans, into his boxers. His fingers wrapped gently around Steve’s cock.

He whispered into Steve’s ear. “I’m going to make you come like that.”

Steve groaned. His pulled his hand off Bucky’s shoulder, afraid his tight grip would leave bruises.

“You really do like it when I talk, don’t you?”

Steve nodded, and Bucky laughed. His hand slid slowly down to the base of Steve’s cock and tightened.

“Then I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” Bucky said. He dragged his hand slowly out to the tip of Steve’s cock, then twisted around the head as his thumb rubbed at the slit. “I’m gonna touch you like this until you’re ready to come, until you’re begging for it.”

His hand began to move in a slow, even rhythm. Steve bucked forward helplessly to meet every downstroke.

“Then I’ll stop and let things calm down,” Bucky said. His hand gripped tighter and started to move a little faster.

Steve panted out Bucky’s name.

“I want to make you crazy, so I’ll wait a little before I start all over again with my mouth. Bring you right to the edge again. Make it last.”

Steve groaned. He couldn’t match the pace of Bucky’s hand anymore. He was too far gone.

“I’ve thought about sucking you too,” Bucky said. “I thought about what you would sound like when you—”

Steve’s orgasm hit him hard and sudden. He wanted to keep pushing into Bucky’s fist but couldn’t move. Bucky stroked him through it though, and it felt even better when his fingers got wet and slick, tight around Steve’s cock, pulling wave after wave of pleasure out of him until he couldn’t breathe.

When Steve finally opened his eyes, Bucky was propped up on one elbow, smiling down at him. “So maybe I’ll do all that next time,” he said.

Steve laughed and kissed him. “I guess we were kind of fast.”

“Fast?” Bucky folded his arm, rested his head on it, and pressed close to drape his other arm around Steve’s waist. “It took us a hundred years to do this.”

“I still can’t believe I forgot to get you a present.”

Bucky laughed. “You already gave me a present. A nice big one.”

He wrapped his hand around Steve’s cock again.

“Cut it out,” Steve said. Everything was still sticky, and his skin felt so sensitive that even Bucky’s light touch made him jump. He tried to move away, but Bucky’s hand followed him.

“I thought you liked it when I talk dirty.”

“Bucky . . .” It came out almost in a whine, but Steve was already responding to Bucky’ gentle strokes, slowly getting hard again.

Bucky kissed Steve’s neck, his chest, then planted a kiss just over his belly button before Steve realized where he was headed. He grabbed Bucky’s arm and tugged him back up. “Not now—I’m a mess.”

Bucky let Steve kiss him, but then he pulled away. “It’s my birthday. You gotta give me what I want.”

“It’s after midnight,” Steve pointed out. “It’s not your birthday anymore.”

Bucky gave Steve’s belly a hard poke with his forefinger. “Smart guy.”

Bucky initiated another kiss, this time drawn out, with lots of tongue and a teasing bite on Steve’s lower lip. Bucky gave him a few more long, slow strokes, and this time Steve didn’t argue when he wriggled away, his lips and tongue, warm and wet, gliding down Steve’s neck, pausing to suck at one nipple, then traveling across his stomach and down until they touched Steve’s cock—just the tip. He let Steve push deep into his mouth before his still-sticky hand clamped on Steve’s hip, keeping him still.

“Happy birthday,” Steve gasped out.

Bucky let out a choking laugh around Steve’s cock, then grabbed Steve’s ass tight to push him in deeper.

The End


End file.
